Choices
by QuintossentialGray
Summary: Two men, two paths that keep crossing and splitting. One becoming more than just a villain while realizing his true destiny. The other discovering a major scientific breakthrough while his moral center slowly decays. Season 3 inspired Mylar.
1. One Missed Call

Mohinder always had his phone with him no matter the time of day. Whether it sat on his nightstand as he slept, or if it resided in his front right pants pocket. Living in America made it an absolute necessity; working for the Company, even more so. So when he stopped at the bottom floor of his apartment building and realized he was without this means of outside communication, he ascended the steps of the building once more to retrieve it.

An annoyed thrust of a silver key into the doorknob that he not moments ago completed the process of securing was coupled with a soft sighing breath. Suresh moved into the apartment and made a beeline straight for his emerald green Verizon cellphone as it rested on his father's former desk. When slender caramel fingers grazed then grasped the surface of the object, he realized a small red light was flashing at the corner of the device. Upon flipping it open, Mohinder confirmed what that light signified: One missed call.

After accidentally running through the menu and ending up in the calendar function, Mohinder checked his voicemail. A palpable beat of silence began the recording followed by two seemingly innocuous words uttered out by the man who'd only a week prior, crashed into Mohinder's life once more.

"...Hello, Mohinder..."

There was always an added quality of fear and intimidation present for Mohinder when he heard that voice on a recording. It was perhaps due to the fact that Mohinder first heard Sylar on a recording made by his father. How the man had entered the younger Suresh's life. A deep inhale then the voice spoke again.

"It's been a week...it feels like longer though, doesn't it?"

No, to Mohinder it felt like mere hours had passed. The freshness of the killer's most recent intrusion still made the dark hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I was so deeply unsatisfied with how our last encounter unfolded. God, how I wish I could have tasted you again. I've had that craving on my tongue since Bozeman. Or that I could have enjoyed Springtime in New York with you...but where I am now... it's quite warm, Mohinder. What was California like when you visited?"

At first, Suresh couldn't comprehend what the man was getting at. It seemed rather sloppy to actually admit where he was. Still, the message went on.

"I suppose that the reason I'm calling you Mohinder, is to thank you. If it weren't for the Company files on your laptop... I may have had to take more extreme measures to locate her again. That reminds me, I hope the little one is doing well."

Molly Walker was always a sore spot for Mohinder to deal with. Sylar's not-so-vague threat toward the little girl caused Suresh to start putting the rest of the killer's statements together. California. Company files. A girl. Oh, God...Sylar was once more after the one that got away: Claire Bennet. An innocent teenager whose ability could make Gabriel Gray a demigod.

"Hm. Well...I have to go. But don't worry Mohinder, after this I'll be heading back your way again. And you can give me the 'welcome home' that I deserve. I'll see you soon."

A resounding click then a moment of silence before his voicemail menu could be heard babbling on about the program's options. He was ashamed to admit how the promise of Sylar's eminent return made his heart skip a beat in his chest. Mohinder kept the phone in his hand as he moved off into his bedroom. Quickly, he glanced around to confirm that he was still alone before he knelt down in front of his dresser. He pulled open the last drawer and removed a stack of various shirts so that he could reveal what he came into the room for.

One neatly-folded, gray zip-up jacket. Pockets on the chest and long sleeves with a button at the end of each one. After Sylar made his escape, Mohinder realized he'd forgotten the article of clothing that the man removed for the taking of his rather unnecessary blood sample. Without being entirely sure why, Mohinder had grabbed the garment and hid it before it was collected by the people he works for.

Suresh lifted the jacket out slowly and carefully, almost as if it were crafted of porcelain and would shatter if handled in any other way. Mocha-colored thumbs traced the creases in every fold in the material. While still on his knees, Mohinder lifted the article of clothing close to his face and and deeply inhaled the remnants of Sylar's scent. There was a unique musk mixed in with lingering traces of what Mohinder believed to be his own aftershave at the jacket's collar.

This meant only that the man truly had made himself out home during his short stay at the apartment. Mohinder envisioned Sylar's lean-muscled form using his shower. Pale, dexterous fingers wrapped around the black Norelco beard trimmer he finally purchased after one too many nicks of his tawny skin compliments of cheap disposable razors. It made Suresh shiver with a feeling of personal violation. His space had been entered into and the very elements of his day to day life used without his consent.

And at this moment, Sylar could very well be an uninvited house-guest once more at the Bennet's residence. Perhaps he was drinking a beverage from her fridge or thumbing through her father's evening paper. Any of several seemingly harmless, average activities that with this man carried the menace of so much more. Gabriel Gray didn't only commit murders, he took lives. He took Zane Taylor's life physically in the act of murder and otherwise by stealing what Mohinder could only assume was his victim's personality as well.

That was what hurt Mohinder the most about their entire experience together...he had his hopes built so high that he'd found a companion. Someone to share in his life's work and the journey for fulfillment 

that he was now left mostly alone on. As unhealthy as it was though...Mohinder was always extremely flattered that someone like Sylar, a man who built himself up into something past the realms of genetic 'humanity' always seemed to be extremely interested in him. For more reasons than just that Mohinder could find them...there was always some spark of completely primal passion between them. As Mohinder reluctantly placed the jacket back in the drawer and piled his clothes on top of it to conceal it...it was because they had this connection that what he did next was likely one of the more heart-wrenching experiences of his life.

Mohinder brought his phone up in front of his eyes and and dialed a number he never thought he would use again. After two short rings, the other line picked up.

"Bennet."

Mohinder hesitated somewhat as thought for a split-second about hanging up. But unfortunately...his morals superseded any lingering desires to be near the killer...to feel the pressure of what a single thought could do to the Indian's vulnerable body.

"...It's Mohinder. Don't hang up, this is very important! ...Is Claire at home right now?"


	2. Unfinished Business

Sylar thought it was strange that Mohinder seemed to not have his phone with him. Even in Montana, when there was absolutely no service for miles and hours at a time, the man insisted on keeping it on and charged. At first, he thought about how disappointed he was to not have the chance to hear the tremor in Mohinder's voice when he announced that he would be back in New York soon. Or...as soon as he could under the circumstances.

Back when he first saw the article print-out as it was foisted in front of his face by the late Alejandro Herrera, Sylar was far too busy trying to keep his puppet on its strings. Maya was his only surefire weapon, his only real way to get Mohinder to help. Even after all that they'd been through, Mohinder still didn't understand his role in all of this. The part he played in Sylar's destiny.

But being back in America came with an interesting set of challenges. Sylar thought it ironic that in his current identity he killed many victims without the authorities ever getting a face to the name, while Gabriel Gray was involved in a single accident and was now wanted for murder in the state of New York. Thankfully, he noticed the Wanted poster at the bus station and acted accordingly.

He made sure to be as polite as he could while paying for his ticket. Smiling when the woman told Mr. Parkman to have a nice trip. Mohinder's roommate really shouldn't leave unopened, newly-ordered credit cards laying around in the mail pile of their apartment.

Sylar arrived in Costa Verde, California and the first thing he did was head to a pay-phone. After he'd finished expressing his gratitude to Suresh for once again providing him with hope and a path to go on, Sylar started off for the address he was looking for. Reading those files on Mohinder's laptop, even he'd been a skeptic on the potential properties of Claire Bennet's blood cocktail. That was until he watched his own wounds heal before his eyes, errant shards of glass leaving his body as it mended. Not to mention of course, the bullet that he put in Maya and Mohinder removed after a simple injection of the substance. The only reason he'd even let the good doctor heal her was to prove that the geneticist wasn't attempting to poison him. Sylar meant what he said about their 'trust issues.'

A relatively short walk from the bus station and Sylar had breached suburbia. It was such a different place...he couldn't fathom what growing up in this type of environment would be like. All pristine-manicured lawns...Gabriel never even had a yard. Growing up in a tiny two-bedroom apartment the closest thing he had was either the local park or the playground at school. The former, Gabriel was not allowed to attend on his own and sadly that was his only option. The latter was a place of constant physical torment. Oh if they could see him now...

It was a good thing Sylar's eidetic memory was restored or he'd not been able to recall the number of the house. Not a good thing when every house on the street was a carbon copy of the one before it. As he neared a white mini-van parked on the street, he heard it. A buzzing, crackling sound of a taser being charged before it was to be fired. Of course it couldn't be easy...but why would Sylar want it to be?

His body swung around and he set his eyes on the agent in a striped polo and khaki shorts as he 

swiftly lifted the taser in question. What a laughable attempt at both camouflage and an assault. Sylar twitched his fingers and the man was sent across the street into a neighbor's mailbox, head-first. Bullets zipped through the air from two different directions and he halted every single one, sending them back along their respective trajectories. The sound of two different heartbeats coming to a sudden halt eased Sylar until he listened more closely and still heard someone breathing nearby.

When Sylar started off toward the house again, the last agent made his presence known. A shining silver Company-issue gun in his hand. Dressed in a cheap, dark suit he had the weapon poised and ready for his intended target. Sylar watched him as he came forward and scoffed to himself. The agent warned Sylar to stop or he'd shoot but before he could even finish his sentence, Sylar flicked his hand back. The killer's face remained impassive as the agent flew backwards, landing into the windshield of the parked mini-van. Glass cracked and shattered from the impact and the man's body became lodged into what was left of the windshield. For a few moments, the man twitched and made few gurgling noises before going both silent and still. Sylar smirked and stepped through the shards of glass littered on the pavement, crunching them under his tall black boots.

Inside the unassuming suburban home, Claire Bennet was entirely unaware of the chaos happening out on the street. Ear-buds resting comfortably as she listened to one of the play-lists that West made for her before he left. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and daydreaming. Claire sighed as the light-bulb in her lamp started to flicker. After a few flickers though it stopped and was fine again. As she wondered if maybe it got loose somehow, she started at the sight of the bulb shaking then exploding into a small burst of glass that rained down on her bedroom floor. ''

She sat bolt upright on the bed, and tugged the ear-buds out of her ears. A car alarm shrilly blaring was the most readily apparent sound. After a few moments...it was still going. It continued chirping as Claire made her way out of her bedroom and into the hallway. After all the things she'd seen and experienced in her life, it was understandable that every step she took was tense and measured. Every breath slow and deep as Claire tried to remain calm. She made her way down the hallway, not noticing when her bedroom door shut itself softly behind her.

Claire walked into the living room and opened the front window's blinds. She could easily spot two of the agent's bodies from that vantage point. When her eyes scanned over to the man stuck through the windshield...limbs twisted and bloodied, face cut to ribbons...she screamed a bloodcurdling sound that was choked off when she watched the blinds snapped themselves closed again. All she could then make was a soft, thin gasp as Claire backed away from the window, nearly tripping over the coffee table. She panicked and ran across the room to the front door. The moment her hand grasped the golden doorknob, the locks clicked into place before her eyes and the door would not budge. All of the lights in the living room and kitchen, every bulb overhead burst and shattered over her. A few nicks and gashes on her body from being under the glass as it fell but they quickly healed as she darted into the kitchen.

The phone in the kitchen was a remaining hope for Claire as she all but threw her momentum into reaching the counter where it normally was kept. Only to find in its place a half-liquefied mess stuck to 

the counter top. Before Claire could reach a trembling hand out to touch the shimmering, black substance...the hairs on the back of her neck pricked and stood on end. Somehow, before even seeing or hearing the intruder...Claire knew that in that room she was no longer alone. The dark, amused voice merely merely confirmed that fact.

"Hello, Claire..."


	3. A Loss of Control

The man who should have died at Kirby Plaza but didn't. Who brutally murdered Claire's former best friend, Jackie Wilcox during their Homecoming game when he meant to kill Claire herself. Her body trembled but she was able to stand her ground as Sylar took a step toward her. He smirked at her reaction, how interesting that she was in many ways more special than any of his previous victims yet just as average. They all reacted in the exact same way when they were trapped before him.

Claire's body jerked to the left in an attempt to escape her kitchen. A silent motion of his hand and she found both of her feet firmly planted in place. As she struggled to fight the telekinetic grip on her body, Sylar brought his hand down...resulting in the upper-half of her body being bent forward. Unfortunately for Claire, this meant her face connected with the section of counter-top where the sink's edge met the smooth surface. A sharp cry of pain whimpered out as her face bruised up and her lip split wide open, spurting out blood onto the kitchen floor.

Her breathing quickened as Sylar strode forward, stopping when he was behind her left shoulder. Suddenly, he reached out and caught a fistful of blonde hair. He used it to force the girl's face upward, to better look into his own. Sylar watched intently as the wounds on her face closed and then faded into nothing again. Slowly, he smiled down at her.

"Considering who your father works for... I had to make sure they didn't do to you what was done to me."

Of course he was referring to the Shanti virus and it's side effect of negating a person's ability. What a waste of a trip if he found the girl to be powerless only after slicing her skull. As Sylar proceeded with his little experiment, he didn't notice that he pinned the girl within arm's reach of a medium sized carving knife.

Claire wrapped her fingers around the handle as the man watched her wounds heal. She wasn't entirely sure what Sylar was getting at, but how dare he speak in such a way about the man she called 'dad' for the near entirety of her young life. The man who sacrificed his own life so that his family could be protected. She wouldn't let that sacrifice be in vain.

"My father has done nothing but try to protect me from freaks like you!"

A major character flaw of Sylar was his arrogance. When he had Claire by her hair, he dropped the full telekinetic hold. Allowing the girl to suddenly twist her upper body and swiftly plunge the blade deep within the killer's chest, narrowly missing his heart. Sylar stared in momentary disbelief at being stabbed in the chest...again. But to Claire's utter shock, he flung out his arm and sent her out into the living room, face-first into the back living room wall. After she was pinned firmly again, Sylar turned his attention back to his own body. A sharp gasp as he moved his arm to carefully hover his left hand near the knife as it protruded out of his chest. His right hand reached inside of his recently acquired jacket and fished around until his fingers grazed over the small glass vial within and a few additional objects.

"After I...UGGGHH!...After I saw Dr. Suresh and learned what this..."

He held up the vial, a crimson substance sloshed around within the container. The extra pieces he'd retrieved from his jacket were assembled and revealed to be the pieces of a syringe. All of the items were contained in the small box he took with him from Mohinder's lab. Sylar drew the contents of the vial into the syringe. After he tapped it a couple times to release any air, he removed his hand from its position next to the wound as he ceased telekinetically keeping the blood-flow from the injury at bay. Sylar quickly took the knife's handle and removed the sharp implement from his body.

"AAAUUGHHHH!"

Blood started to pour out, pooling around the entry wound and soaking into the fabric of his shirt while he shakily sought out a vein in his arm. Claire watched in confused horror as Sylar injected himself with the substance, emptying the syringe before tossing it aside. Sylar turned, holding his now torn shirt open a little so Claire could see the effects of her own blood when mixed with that of Mohinder Suresh. She started at the sight of his wound mending, blood sucking back into his body as newly generated skin covered up the disappearing gash.

"...h-how?!'

Sylar smirked and lifted the empty vial into the air. With a flick of his fingers, it levitated for a moment then shot across the room, shattering when it hit the wall not an inch away from Claire's face as she flinched helplessly.

"Just a...gift that I picked up in New York. I've carried it with me all this time just in case I needed. That is, before I could find the source again."

When Sylar swiped that box with his cure inside, there were two separate vials left even after Mohinder revived Maya. Sylar took the other vial and the extra syringe with him after seeing what even just a small amount could do when he healed himself in that Brooklyn alleyway. The man smiled and lifted his index finger up to align with her forehead. Claire squirmed and breathlessly pleaded with her attacker.

He started to trace an invisible line in the air in front of him, blood seeped out from deeply cut wounds as she screamed and choked out sobs as she felt her skull pierced into. All that power...he'd be nearly God-like...unstoppable...he--What was that crackling sound?

Only about a quarter of an inch along her skin, Sylar stopped the motion so he could listen. Claire was a shuddering wreck as her sobs increased. Sylar put that once pointed finger to his lips.

"Shhh...Did I miss one?"

He asked the question rhetorically as he listened to the crackling, sparking sound..

"No, I just got here."

A large, bright, blue flash filled the room as Sylar was hit with 50,000 volts. The force flung his body across the room as Sylar was knocked out cold. Elle Bishop learned her lesson the first time that when dealing with Sylar, unconscious and fast was the key. As soon as Sylar was down nothing kept Claire to the wall any longer as she slipped off to the floor. She huddled her legs in close to her body as she watched Elle take out her cell phone.

"Just can't seem to stay out of trouble, can you pep squad?"

Elle rolled her eyes some and let Noah know on the other end that his precious Claire-bear was safe before she called in for a clean-up crew.

A different sort of sound filled Sylar's ears two days later. An insistent buzzing. His consciousness attempted to restore itself but his eyelids felt as if they'd been weighted down. He groaned then stopped... feeling something obstructing his nostril. Sylar willed his eyes open further as he looked at his surroundings: gray concrete walls, too-bright florescent lights, and an I.V. stand that held the long tube deeply lodged past his nostril.

Slowly, he blinked eyes moving back and forth as it started to come together. But his mind was deep in a haze, it felt numbed as did the rest of his securely strapped-down body. He felt something softly...rustling his flat, un-styled hair. It took him a minute to register the blurry outline but the voice made the identity of the other presence in the room emphatically clear as the cultured accent spoke to him.

"It looks as if you kept your promise. You are back in New York, Sylar."

Sylar pulled harder against his restraints, attempting to telekinetically open them to no avail. The tube in his nose was also an agonizing annoyance he wished to be rid off as he lay there. He was so pumped full off sedatives and 'Haitian pills' that Mohinder remained quite out-of-focus. He could feel, however, the hand as it sifted through dark strands. Next it moved to graze the back of its knuckles over Sylar's stubbled jaw.

"Now...I think perhaps it only appropriate that you receive the 'welcome home' you claim to deserve."

Caramel fingers slid over the drab cotton tank top then underneath it to run along soft chest hair and pale flesh. Sylar's heart-rate spiked as he realized that he awoke missing not just his powers but the thing those abilities represented: control. At this moment, as he teasingly dragged his hand along Sylar's stomach and down...Mohinder was receiving a small taste of the power that Sylar had displayed with both himself and Mohinder's own loved ones. As he looked upon the bound and helpless form of the 

man who had simultaneously fractured and completed his life...that small taste was making Suresh hungry for more.


	4. For What's To Come

After Mohinder got off the phone with Bennet, following Sylar's capture... he stood there numb for a moment. There was every likelihood that following any initial examinations and processing, that Gabriel Gray's life would be subject to either of two outcomes. The first being a simple termination. However, the more likely fate would be incarceration in a level five cell. Mohinder couldn't take the chance of either of these outcomes happening before he could attempt to find some sort of closure in their situation. He had to go and see him for what could be the last time ever.

It was going to be so simple...but as he stood there and watched the killer come to, he felt something surging within his body. This was a man who exuded so much power in a single thought or gesture. Who now had been brought down so low, made so vulnerable...brought back down to the realms of mortality. And now it was Suresh himself that held all the cards. So he took some advantage of the situation as his hand roamed along Sylar's prone body as he woke. Reaching down past the man's stomach and sliding his fingers underneath the waistband of Sylar's Company-issued pants. That really snapped the killer back to as Mohinder's fingertips grazed soft, warm flesh.

Even though Mohinder knew painkillers were numbing his body and keeping Sylar helplessly flaccid, he still smirked mockingly down at the man. A tawny thumb passing over the unresponsive flesh.

"Just how helpless do you really consider me to be? Was your assumption that you could taunt me from miles away and threaten yet another innocent life all while I stood by and let you commit your senseless acts?"

Suresh tightened his grip on Sylar, causing the man to practically growl out from the gesture not the sensation. Mohinder clenched his jaw as he actively avoided feeling pity for this man.

"I am not my father."

With that, he released his grip on Sylar, moving over to the IV in his arm keeping the painkillers flowing. Mohinder switched it off, noting that Sylar still had scorch marks on his flesh...they likely thought it best to heal him in portions lest his blood become powerful enough to ward off any suppressants. Burns that deep...would be rather painful without anything to help with the sensation. Sylar turned his head and watched as Mohinder moved back toward him.

"You...you're here aren't you?"

Sylar's words were hopelessly slurred in his narcotic daze. If Mohinder didn't care...didn't at all give a damn...he would not be there now. Mohinder knew that Sylar wasn't a fool. That they both recognized the connection they seemed to share...he knew Sylar would feel how badly this hurt Mohinder to see him like this, to think about him dead.

"I...I am, yes. To say goodbye. I won't lie to you, I am here to see you one last time."

His voice was flat as he waited a few moments...just watching Sylar. Then he moved and slipped his hand slowly back beyond the waistband of Sylar's pants. The way in which the killer was bound allowed Mohinder for some access to the more sensitive parts of Sylar's body. Mohinder watched Sylar's face closely as he started to struggle and...felt the scarred flesh chafe against his restraints. The stammer in his voice felt very gratifying for Mohinder as he felt the heat of Sylar's body

"Mohinder...M-mohinder wait...what are you...Stop that! Wai--AGGGHHH! God my...my skin..."

Sylar panted and tried to pull harder against his restraints, but he couldn't move an inch as Mohinder let his finger slide further back until he was pressed to Sylar's entrance. Wide amber eyes met the geneticist's motion as he slowly inserted the tip of his left index finger past the tight, unrelenting ring of muscle.

"Mohinder...Mohinder, wh-what the HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Everything felt so hyper-sensitive at that moment as the painkillers subsided in his system and he focused any stray thought to try and concentrate and break the restraints...throw Mohinder back...anything. Sylar twitched and squirmed, grunting loudly then screaming out, a deep guttural sound while Mohinder continued to push his way inside of the killer's body. His dexterous finger finding its way deeply in then slowly, roughly back out again. He groaned and stared down at the twitching, tense bound man before him.

"Surely you must have learned that power...is a tenuous thing at best. What once was yours...could be..."

Another finger, forcing its way in...Mohinder had to twist both fingers back and forth to burrow himself deeper into Sylar's tight heat.

"...Mine."

For a few minutes, Mohinder explored Sylar's hole, twisting and violating the man as he writhed and started to actually plead for it to stop. Feeling so powerless...he didn't know how to handle it. His heart slammed against the confines of his rib cage, body broke out into a cold sweat that soaked his burnt skin. The saltiness of the sweat serving to further sting at his flesh as he groaned with Mohinder's twisting motions. Right when the cries of pain started to settle into moans, and Mohinder felt the tenseness subside in Sylar's body, he pulled his fingers roughly out again. Another scream then Sylar stared, appalled at the man who just assaulted his body. Dreaming of the things he'd do to Mohinder's body when he got out of there. Mohinder smirked and wiped his fingers off on a nearby washcloth. He reached inside of his light tan jacket and pulled out another small box...

"The first one I took was destroyed in the fray between you and Elle, so I'll be taking another."

As Sylar took sharp, ragged breaths...still recovering from being, in his mind, brutally penetrated...he knit his brow in confusion.

"Anoth...another what Suresh?"

Mohinder revealed the syringe in his hand that he produced from the small wooden box. He walked forward and set his hand gently on Sylar's arm.

"Sample, of your blood. At the time I will admit it was mostly a distraction to get you to my lab. But there were a few interesting properties of your enhanced blood cells that I noted while I examined your first sample. This will sting."

Sylar flexed his arm, tensing his muscles but he could do nothing but lay there as Mohinder inserted the sharp tip, tearing it past his skin and deep down inside of the vein itself. He took his time drawing out the contents to fill the vial up then swiftly took the needle out.

"AGH! Mohinder you...you ..."

Sylar started off with the intent to threaten the man but as he thought more about it...Mohinder could possibly be his only chance out of this. Without his powers, they could very well lock him up and throw away the key as they say. So he did what he could, he let every ounce of fear and vulnerability show through. Wide eyes, quivering lips, and halting speech patterns all lent to his display as he locked eyes with Mohinder.

"You...can help me...please Mohinder. I know you can feel that...thing between us, the spark...I feel it. You're a good person. You'd never let someone else die if you could st-stop it..."

Mohinder coldly replied as he set the vial of blood gently back into the small, wooden box.

"I don't see a person when I look at you. I see a soul-less creature who mimics emotion and feeling to get what it wants, to survive. I won't be the one responsible for unleashing that creature out into the world, again."

Mohinder turned on his heel and quickly left the room, door locking shut behind him. He walked down the hall and barely got through the swinging restroom door before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees on the tile floor. Tears forming twin slithering trails of fluid down his face. Why did he do that? Why did he let himself get so carried away? Why...why does he feel like throwing up? Quickly, Mohinder rushed to a stall, flinging the door open and bracing his hands on his knees as he bent over and his stomach muscles heaved in intense, jerking motions. After he was finished, Mohinder wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

He reached inside of his jacket and retrieved the vial from within the box. If his blood and Claire 

Bennet's blood had useful properties...who's to say that Sylar's blood doesn't? Mohinder placed the vial away again and then went over to the mirror, splashing cold water against his face then drying off with a few brown paper towels. As wrong as it was, he hoped that they merely locked the man up. If anything it meant that...this didn't have to be goodbye.

Sylar stared at the ceiling, he couldn't get his heart to slow from the moment Mohinder came in or when after he left. It was...beyond nerve-wrecking to lay there and wonder what would become of him. Soon, his answer came in the form of two agents walking into the room and over to him. He watched as they forced a needle into his flesh, nearly the exact same place Mohinder's needle had entered his body. Soon after, everything blurred and faded as Sylar passed out into a perfectly sedated state. The last words he heard before he went under were 'Haitian...wiped clean...'

Footsteps...echoing down a hall...the door unlocking and opening. More footsteps...Sylar was so out of it as he tried to come-to again. A soft mumble escaped his lips as his head turned slowly side to side.

Then a hand...moved on his arm...over his skin. Another on his stomach, a reassuring pat and a slight rubbing over the material of his tank top as the voice spoke.

"Hello, Gabriel. I know how you've always wanted to be..._special_..."

Sylar was confused by the woman's voice and even more confused when the hand on his arm started to...untie the strap on his wrist. The strap was loosened then undone entirely, it lay open at both ends of his chafed wrist. He felt the hand move over to the strap on his other wrist, loosening it as well.

"You are indeed...very special...and you need to be strong for what's to come."

Both of his arms were free as he stared at the dark-haired woman looking down at him. Sylar moved a weak arm up and ripped the tube out of his nostril, tossing it aside as he stared at her. She was looking at him in such an...odd manner.

"Wha...what do I have... to be strong for?"

The question was asked with another set of slurred words, his eyes blinking heavily. Sylar looked down, wobbling some as he moved to start tearing out the IV in his arm as well, wincing when he did finally free himself of the device. She smiled, red lipstick parting for small pearly teeth.

"We have much to discuss, Gabriel..."


	5. The Privilege of Power

Every winding labyrinthine hallway of the Hartsdale facility held so many memories for Angela Petrelli. When she and her husband and ten other individuals formed the Company all those years ago...it all started there, in that large gray building. The Hartsdale facility was the very first location for the organization, where they began their tireless efforts to try and understand this phenomena and to try and help others with what they could do. It was also where it all went so very wrong. A place where plans were made and betrayals occurred. But it could also be the place where... so many things from her past could be rectified.

Angela's black two-inch heels clacked against the linoleum of the hallway as she made her way to the large exam room where detainees were mind-wiped. It was not two days ago that Angela had regained control of the facility from Robert Bishop. The way in which he was handling things...not efficient enough. People would think it was because it was commonly believed he sanctioned the attempted assassination of her eldest son, Nathan that she forced him to relinquish his position within the organization. But that man knew something about Angela's past that stunned the woman herself as she read through her own rather large personal file after he was taken care of. She thought that no one still knew the truth.

A year ago, in Odessa, Texas a man named Gabriel Gray, alias: Sylar, was detained after an operation at an Odessa High School Homecoming game. When he was processed, the commonplace procedures were carried out, including a blood sample. That blood sample was run through a database in Hartsdale and...the results were surprising, to say the least, for Bishop. Angela discovered that Bob kept extensive files on most everyone associated with the Company. All their dirty little secrets contained in large file boxes. But if it wasn't for the man's nosy ways...she may have never made the connection.

As she threw open the double doors to the room, she caused both agents to turn and give her their full attention.

"There's going to be some changes around here. Starting with this project being terminated effective immediately. I will be overseeing Mr. Gray's activities here from this point on."

Neither agent made any attempt at arguing as they both left her alone with the bound man. When they were gone, Angela slowly moved over closer...it was something she thought would never happen. She moved to start removing the restraints holding him fixed to the slab. Speaking to him in quiet tones, trying to be as comforting and non-threatening as she could. When he sat up, she kept that hand on his arm...how was she going to tell him? But before she could speak, Angela found in a moment's notice that the man had pulled her arm down. He used his own arm to wrap around her neck and hold her close, her back to his chest as he panted, his words spat out while he sat on the slab's edge.

"That's not my name...and whoever you are, you're one of them. I have no desire to listen to the people who tried to_** kill me**_."

Angela remained calm as she felt the firm grip on her neck. She pursed her lips and...well this was 

going about how she expected to be honest. She'd read his file...he has every violent tendency and she knew that letting him free of his restraints alone wouldn't earn her his trust.

"It wouldn't have been your name, no but it is rather fitting that you're named after the Biblical archangel of death...considering. However, I would recommend that you let go of me before the people watching on the other end of that camera in the corner of the room get exceptionally concerned with my well-being."

Sylar stood up and moved across the large room, still keeping his hold on the woman. He scanned the door and figured that it would require the use of a key-card to gain access to the locking mechanism. First though, he tried to use his telekinesis...that didn't work as hoped as Sylar felt something was certainly off when he made the attempt. A thought confirmed when nothing happened. Angrily, he let go of the woman and stepped back to face her.

"Did they inject me again?"

Angela straightened her blouse, smoothing the sleeves before she spoke.

"The reason you cannot access your abilities Sylar, is due to the fact that that within your system is a potent but temporary suppressant. Without another dose, the effects will wear off within a day. Now, are you going to be stupid and try to force your way out of here and be killed for the effort? Or... will you let me tell you why I gave a damn to stop this organization from wiping your mind clean completely?"e

Sylar flinched visibly at the thought of his memories being taken from him. And yes, he was curious as to who this woman was and why she was speaking to him in such a tone. He folded his arms over his wife beater-clad chest as he replied.

"Fine. Why don't you start with you are?"

Angela nodded curtly as she folded her hands and placed them on her lap.

"My name is Angela and I'm one of the twelve people responsible for the formation of the Company. But the reason you should care about who I am has everything to do with a series of events that took place twenty-eight years ago. A series of events that resulted in your existence, Gabriel."

She started to pace the room, making sharp turns on her heels every few steps as she spoke. Sylar listened intently but...her vague statements weren't making sense to him just yet.

"In your file, there are transcripts of your recorded conversations with Chandra Suresh. In them, you state a desire to discover that the Grays were not your biological family. In most cases, this would be simply the wishful thinking of a child,...but not in yours.You were adopted Gabriel...Virginia Gray was not 

your mother. I am."

Every part of him that should have been wondering if this was just another Company ploy...was completely blindsided by her answer. Sylar's arms fell to his sides as he raised both brows and looked at Angela. All those years he'd hoped for another family, another life...and he could have had one.

"I was...adopted? Then...why was I given up? Why was I abandoned with those...those strangers?"

It was hard to hide the outrage in his words...and the confusion. This was all happening so fast. Wait, if she was a part of the Company then...he was very deeply connected to the people he was about to try and take down. People who had wanted him dead... Angela pursed her lips and sighed, walking toward him again and once more resting a hand on his bare arm. She chose her words carefully before she spoke.

"It wasn't safe. If I had kept you... you would have been taken from me. Tested beyond your limits. I'm sure you recall the woman who stopped you in California and in Brooklyn...she was the daughter of another one of the Company founders. Almost her entire life has been spent inside of facility walls...so I did what was best and gave you a chance at having a better life. But I knew...that somehow you'd realize the potential you have...how unique you are. Did you ever wonder why you were kept alive in Odessa? When I found out who 'Sylar' really was...I had to act. I couldn't let them harm my son..."

By her words being so carefully spoken, Angela avoided messy details such as who his biological father was...why she really gave him up...that he had two brothers, one of whom he'd killed while on his initial rampage. It was a lot for Sylar to take in, even just a year ago if she would have found him and told him this...his reaction would be more full of sincere gratitude. The reaction that was best-suited to the person who shattered a certain life of mediocrity, and instead showed him that he _could be_ so much more than a simple watchmaker. But, much had changed since then. The man who so desperately wanted hope and validation had tasted both now...so the more cynical man that Sylar became wondered only one thing.

"I see...then what do you want from me now?"

She wasn't a sentimental, overly-emotional woman... so his reaction worked just fine. Angela stepped back and looked right into his eyes while she spoke.

"Gabriel, this place...the Company, it is your destiny now. Most of the other founders have passed...it's up to the new, younger generation of people with these abilities to take us through the next few decades, and I know that you're the one we all need. You can lead them all, Sylar...I've had dreams, visions really of what you do with this organization...and it's astounding. Now, are you willing to take on this responsibility?"

A few moments went by as Sylar thought about this. What it would mean...how much power he'd 

wield by not being hunted down anymore. A smirk crept onto the corner of his lips. From everything she said, Sylar had figured out that Angela had an ability as well...if it was true what she saw then how could he possibly say no? In a way, he was receiving the 'keys to the castle.'

"So tell me...what types of things do I end up doing...Mom?"


	6. Discovery

After confronting his father's killer for what could be the last time, Mohinder did not return to his apartment. Instead, he rushed over to the loft that still served as his laboratory to continue his ongoing research project he started a week prior. Suresh also had a theory regarding Sylar's blood that would coincide with the work he'd been pursuing ever since the man came back into his life and brought Maya Herrera with him. She was a genetically fascinating specimen. Maya was unlike any other person with an ability that Mohinder had yet seen.

On the surface, her ability: the secretion of a deadly airborne toxin, held absolutely no positive benefit. But Suresh firmly held the belief that this woman wasn't given such an ability without there being some hidden use to it. So shortly after she started staying with him, Mohinder took a few different samples from the woman. He had Maya collect a sample of the substance that leaked from her tear ducts during a very controlled experiment Mohinder himself conducted.

Over the few days after her arrival, Mohinder tirelessly analyzed every sample. On the fourth day, he came upon a momentous breakthrough. One he was meaning to get back to but the detour over to the Hartsdale facility proved a momentary distraction. But now he could get back to work testing out the capability of a newly created serum. One he created from the extract of Maya's toxin sample. From everything Suresh calculated--this serum could do what he once thought was the impossible.

So the first thing he did upon returning to the loft was to get the sample out and test it. He'd never know what it could do unless it was properly tested with a human subject. Never wanting to put someone else through the potential side effects and also wanting to keep this little discovery away from the Company. God knows what they'd do with it if it did work. The only option he could think was to test it himself, damn the consequences. He took the sample and a sterile syringe and went outside onto the balcony of the loft.

For a moment, he hesitated on whether or not it would be wise to go through with this. But then he thought about the potential of this serum--that it could create people like Claire Bennet who would never know what it is to suffer from illness or injury. Slowly, he removed the plastic cap that enclosed the syringe's tip. After tapping any unwanted air bubbles away, he sets about unbuttoning the sleeve of his maroon and beige striped shirt at the wrist.

Once he rolled enough of the material up, he flexed his fingers a few times. Once a suitable enough vein popped, Mohinder inserted the sharp needle into his skin. It carefully tore its way through his flesh. He winced at the sensation then when it was deep enough inside of his arm, he brought his thumb down on the plunger. The silver thumb-ring catching a glint of light and flashing in his amber eyes. Mohinder gasped softly as he watched the serum disappear from the tube and into his veins. It felt strange for a few moments after...tingly. Mohinder wondered how he'd test it, then he thought that he could at least take a sample of his own blood to see if anything had changed within.

Quickly, he rushed back inside but in his excitement to see the results of his experiment--he tripped and his body started to head straight for the tall glass window. In that brief moment, adrenaline surged through his body as the man winced for what would surely be an excruciating impact. And he does fall...but not into glass. Mohinder hit the the ground, he's dazed for a moment and in that moment he doesn't realize that he's not bleeding. But when he does, Mohinder looks around and notes the lack of shattered glass shards as well. The full realization of what happened was helped by a glance over the shoulder to see that half of his body was on one side of the glass...while the rest was still inside.

He pulled the rest of his body through, the glass remaining intact. Suresh sat up on his knees and pressed his shaking hand to the glass...and watched bewildered as it seemed to phase right through.

"...my God..."

The door the loft creaked as it shut and an accented voice called out.

"Dr. Suresh? Mohinder...are you here?"

Mohinder scrambled back up to his feet, pulling his hand through the glass as he did so. He moved over to greet her, flashing a smile that was more for what he just accomplished than the presence of the woman. Maya set the blue crystal dish she was holding down on the counter.

Ever since she arrived in New York, Maya was staying with Mohinder. She was very grateful that he let her do so, not knowing another soul in the country. At least, not one who hadn't so completely torn the world she knew asunder. Often at night, Maya would either have dreams...or a nightmare. In her dreams, she would see her journey to America. But it would end so much better, with her beloved brother Alejandro by her side and getting to see the wonders of the country. Neither having met the tall, dark stranger who would take him from her forever. Who would go on to haunt her nightmares on other nights.

One day she accidentally discovered a thick manila folder shoved in the back of Mohinder's filing cabinet. And she learned so much more about the man called Sylar who traversed the country on a murderous rampage. Counting among his victims Molly Walker's parents and the father of Mohinder as well as over a dozen others. A man who from many of his kills gained fantastic and often lethal abilities...and always thirsted for more.

"I brought you this a couple of hours ago, but you were not here."

It was hard to resist the urge to ask where he'd been. Ever since Mohinder got the call that Sylar had been captured...she knew. He dropped everything in the middle of dinner with her at the apartment to drive down to Hartsdale. She could guess that due to the fact that he was slightly unshaven, and wore the same clothes he did when he left that he'd been there all night.

Mohinder blinked and glanced to the side of the woman. He muttered out his reply.

"Yes, they uh--they wanted to speak me about the phone-call Sylar made. The specifics of it. I told Noah Bennet but you know how it is with places like this. Have to repeat the same information to a never-ending cadre of people. Then I was going to speak with Bishop, but he wasn't there. Oh, sorry about dinner."

The last part of the statement was spoken like the true after-thought it was. Mohinder had so many important things on his mind that he couldn't be bothered by the woman's lingering feelings regarding an interrupted meal. But Maya chose to believe that Mohinder's story was true. Which was for the best as she smiled and lifted the lid off the dish...it was much better that she didn't know what he actually did the night before.

"It's nothing...I brought you the left-overs from last night."

Mohinder looked down at the leftover empanadas and forced a smile. He would never tell her but, for the most part, Mohinder just didn't like Mexican food. It didn't have the type of flavor that he craved.

"Ah, yes. Thank you Maya...I'll have some later. But first, there's something incredible that I've made a breakthrough on that you need to see."

She beamed with excitement at the geneticist. Had there finally been the answer she traveled all those hundreds of miles for?

"My sample...did you find something?"

When she asked, Maya stepped forward and placed her hand on Mohinder's arm. He glanced down at her hand and nodded.

"Yes, I always thought that this biological phenomenon was just the happenstance of natural selection. A completely random choosing of traits to be encouraged and passed on. Hard-wired into the DNA. But all DNA can be manipulated."

And with that he picked up the lid of the dish. Placing his hand through the glass. Phasing it through to about the wrist. Maya gasped and stepped back, her hands over her mouth.

"Dios mio! Mohinder, what are you doing?"

Mohinder pulled his hand back. A half-smile crept at the corner of his lips. He shrugged as he looked her right in the eye.

"Leveling the playing field. Think of of the possibilities-- every person on the planet could be given an 

advantage against the World's changing environment. People could become immune to the ravages of disease, the devastation of climate change, and even to death itself."

His excited tone served only to further twist up Maya's stomach. She took a step back from the man and replied.

"But...that is not what you were working on. What about me, my sickness? I thought you were going to help cure me Mohinder."

Mohinder knit his brow as he listened to the woman. Couldn't she see what fantastic news this was? He had to convince her how beneficial this could be.

"Maya, don't you see? This is all because of you, your gift. It can save countless lives. But there needs to be more research. The lack of availability of a sample would be detrimental to this research. I need you here...I need _your_ help."

With that he took a step toward her again and gently cupped her jaw in his hand. All while he kept perfect eye-contact with the girl.

"Besides, a cure may not even be within the realm of possibility without causing you harm."

Her soft brown eyes stayed fixed on Mohinder's own. Initially, she wanted to tell him her ability was evil, that it had taken many innocent lives. But what could she do? Leave the only person she had in this country? No. Perhaps, if Mohinder was so certain that the essence of what she could create had the potential of saving lives, then this was still part of God's plan for her. Sacrifices must be made for others to prosper. Maya knew as a child of God that if she could contribute to something that could make the world a better place, then she must stay. She smiled knowingly at Mohinder.

"Yes, you are right Mohinder. I'm glad to see some benefit has been found in what has happened inside of me. Here-- let me go and heat this up for you."

Maya moved away from the geneticist's surprisingly cold hand and walked back over to the dish. She set the lid back on it and took it in the back of the room where a small kitchen area remained. Mohinder turned on his heel and moved over to his desk. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. While the woman busied herself he slipped a hand inside of his jacket, his fingers curled around the glass vial of Gabriel Gray's blood sample. Rolling it back and forth in the palm of his hand for a moment as his thoughts lingered to the man strapped to a concrete slab. Had they killed him by now or merely transferred the killer to a different facility? He made a point of it in his mind to find out tomorrow.

Mohinder unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and slid the tube inside, locking it up again after. With the narrowly-averted crisis concerning Maya, he thought it best to start working on Sylar's sample when she wasn't around. Perhaps the killer could end up contributing to instead of feeding off the 

research of others. Because what he just stumbled upon was the type of breakthrough that a scientist can spend his entire life working to find. Not to mention, a discovery that was entirely Mohinder's own.

But for now, he stood up after hearing the ding of the microwave in the other room. So that he could choke down the leftovers from last night and keep Maya placated. As much as he spouted off about changing and saving the world-- there was another reason Mohinder was determined to find out how far he could go with this discovery. He felt the biggest thrill of his life when his body phased through that glass. And assuming that the serum was both temporary and random without a stabilizer, Suresh wanted to know what other incredible things he could be able to do.


	7. A Detour and an Alliance

It was interesting how much his new destiny looked and tasted like his old. Bitter, badly-brewed coffee that Sylar was drinking out of habit and a bit of a caffiene addiction more than any actual enjoyment of the beverage. He set the mug down and glanced up at his intended mark, a file given to him directly but his...well his mother. If he were a man who drank he'd need something a great deal stronger than black coffee to help deal with that little bombshell. True he had so many questions about it but...he didn't want her to know how thrown off he felt by the situation. Sylar wanted to maintain control at all costs.

So he sat in the non-descript diner in New Jersey and waited to make his move. In a way, the whole thing made him nostalgic for the beginning days of this journey for power. Days spent under a black baseball cap pulled low, moving in and out of the shadows of people's lives...going from a passive observer to a very active participant. But back then there was always a carefully maintained secrecy to it all. Careful never to touch things personally for the sake of fingerprints, to have any witnesses who could ever trace him back to the scenes of his crimes. But now Sylar positively luxiuriated in his newfound freedom. If he wanted? He could off the man right here in front of everyone and the only people who ever would have captured him would let him. Pays to have family in high places, apparently.

He finished draining the seafoam green mug and set it back down, looking over again at the man...he was such a slow eater. Sylar adjusted the black vest he wore over a button-up shirt, both paired with trousers and black dress shoes. It was certainly different than how he'd likely have dressed on his own, they were the clothes waiting for him when he left his cell, but he actually rather liked the overall image they projected. He reached up and absently twisted and spiked a strand of hair as he got lost in his own thoughts for a moment, the auburn-haired waitress sauntered up and smiled at the tall man. She lifted the pot of coffe in front of his line of sight to get his attention.

"Freshen up your cup?"

Sylar snapped out of it, looking from the dark liquid sloshing around the container up the arm that held it. He smiled a little and offered his empty mug over to her. Eyes gazing at the nametag on her shirt before he replied.

"That would be wonderful, Meaghan, thank you."

She couldn't help a smile at the man who was far more handsome than a typical day's clientale in the diner. After she poured his drink she did the usual waitress shtick of letting him know that if he needed anything to let her know. Sylar nodded politely and sipped his coffee as she walked away. Then he saw it, Robert Keep was on the move. Out of his booth and walking quickly to the men's restroom. Sylar waited a few momens then took another long sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table. He rose from the booth and moved across the room, over to the restrooms. Walking in through the swinging door that he made sure to telekinetically lock when he could hear only his and the man's heartbeats in the room. He strolled over to the rather low-vaulted urinal and made it look like he was relieving himself while the man washed his hands at the sink. After he flushed, Sylar turned around and 

stared at the man's reflection through the mirror. When he read about such an incredible ability, he knew it had to be his.

"Excuse me...are you Robert Keep?"

The man at the sink nervously shot his face up and looked toward the dark-haired stranger who knew his name. Nervously he confirmed his identity. Sylar smiled and started in on his carefully-planned approach. Letting the man know he knew who he was, knew what he did, and that he wasn't alone in being so...unique. All of it part of throwing Robert Keep's guard down and getting him to do something frantic like try and escape. And when he did do just that, and Sylar flung him back against the wall, he was scared but not as scared as the others. When Sylar held the man's throat and focused, dragging his finger along that invisible line over Robert's forehead-- he found that this kill would be a little more tricky than others had been.

"...It really is impenetrable."

"You can't hurt me..."

Sylar quirked a brow then chuckled, dismissively. He assured Robert that he was not at all going to be kept from accomplishing what he came in to do. He crooked his fingers while keeping a hold of the man's throat. Reaching his hand forward, Sylar widened the man's mouth with aid of telekinesis. The invisible vice-like grip forced the man's jaw wide open, bending it a little at the hinges.

When Gabriel Gray was a boy he had a complete fascination with the practices of ancient civilizations. One of those being that of the ancient Egyptians and their process of mummification. He would read about it in old texts, look at the pictures of what would happen, and he would never recoil once. One of the more useful things they did was remove the organs since they would quickly fester and decompose not long after the body was entombed. Brain removal was a necessary part of this process. In order to do it, Gabriel learned that a hook was inserted into the nostrils and wrenched up to break the bone behind the nose that was protecting the organ. After, pieces of the brain would be pulled out via the nasal cavity until it was then flushed clean with water once all of the larger pieces had been removed. Sylar never dreamed that such an antiquated technique could serve his needs so well in this day and age.

As the man gasped Sylar stuck his crooked fingers into the man's nostrils and he took a moment to get a good grip before he violently wrenched up and back, the satisfying snap of bone was coupled with the less than satisfactory spray of blood that soaked Sylar's clothes. He turned away, the crimson substance dripping down from his stubbled chin as he wiped his face off on the back of his free arm.

"Ugh...that's quite the mess you're making Robert."

As his victim screamed and gurgled, no way to struggle within his telekinetic hold as the rush of blood 

served to choke him. Robert Keep drowned on his own blood within mere minutes at the angle he was held. When Keep stopped gurgling and twitching, Sylar moved in and started to jam his hand in more, fingers reaching and yanking at tiny bits of brain that could be scraped out. It was a sickening process to get to the exact section he needed. Viscous fluids and blood soaked his hands by the time he found it. Keeping the door locked with his mind as the knob jiggled and pounding was heard on the other end.

Finally when he managed to absorb the ability he went to the sink and calmly washed his face and hands the best he could. Discarded fragments of brain awash in a pool of blood next to the dropped corpse on the tiled floor. After Sylar used what was left of the paper towels in the brown mounted dispenser, he listened closely outside of the door. For a moment--there was no one else around. So he made a careful, quick exit from the diner. Rushing to head back to the facility--complete ecstatic at the possibilities of his new ability.

Back in Hartsdale there was a major incident beginning. When Elle Bishop found out that her father was no longer leading the Company and had 'mysteriously disappeared' she was going to find her answers. But when the guard at the gate denied her access-- Elle knew that things were not the same as they were a couple of days ago. Luckily, she was not deterred and managed to gain entrance into the facility building. Shame about the guard though, she always thought he was nice. She clacked her tall black knee-high boots down the halls, focused on finding her father or finding out just why exactly she was being kept out of the building. She encountered a few lower-level agents, trying to tranquilize her as she sparked and sent bolts flying across the halls of the floor she was on. One bolt completely fried the first agent to a crisp and the second was stunned after a blue bolt bounced off a box on the wall and sparks rained down. It was a fuse box and the entire floor went dark in seconds. Elle slowly moved down the hall and over to the nearly unconscious man. She crouched down by him and stares at him silently for a moment as he gasps and coughs.

"Where's my father?"

Her tone was calm and even as the man remained silent, just looking back up at her. Elle sighed and suddenly a blue, crackling light sparked up from her fingertips as she held it right to his face. It was the only glow in the dim room as a siren suddenly started to blare.

"Where...is...my...father?"

With each word, Elle jolted the man a little more making him cry out in an increasing amount of pain.

"L-LEVEL FIVE!"

She furrowed her brow at the response then dismissively shocked him again as she stood up again and strolled off to the stairwell. When she hit the the last step, a loud scream echoed down the hall. It was a man's scream and then it was suddenly cut off.

"Dad!?"

As Elle rushed down the hallway, she noticed that the cells...were wide open. Suddenly she stopped, and she wished she had her gun with her still. But having what flows through her veins--could just be enough. She sparked up her fingertips, a glowing blue ball of electric energy lit her way as she moved down the hall toward the scream. The woman turned the corner and peered down the next corridor of cells. A blue glow keeping her path lit as she moved into the first cell on her right. A typical level five cell. Cot in the corner, small sink and toilet...and she saw it. Elle saw a body whose condition could only be described as mauled.

Deep gashes in the chest, on the face, a pair of glasses cracked and bloodied nearby. When the moment of shock passed and she realized that her father, Bob Bishop was the body that she was staring at, she felt tears stinging her eyes. But no. No, he would not have wanted her to cry. She was raised to be stronger than that, so she steeled herself and set about focusing on the task at hand, finding out who did it and stopping them before they could hurt anyone else. Suddenly, Elle heard a loud crash, she tensed at the sound and quickly moved out of the cell. The pulsing ball of electricity glowed brighter with every step, turning from a sphere that slightly flickered into an erratic, spiky, crackling mass of instant-death for whomever was unlucky enough to be blasted with it. Another crashing sound and she found herself hurrying to get back out into the main hall but in mid-step she found her body flipped over and thrown backward. Elle was stunned for a moment then re-charged her hands to see what happened. Out of the shadows, the blue light lit up his pale skin--and gave the blood that stained his hands and shirt an irredescent hue that twisted her stomach. How did he get out? The blood...it was him.

"You...you shouldn't be here...I locked you up...WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!"

But Sylar wasn't really paying attention to Elle--he was trying to listen around them. They weren't alone. Someone was stalking her and he thought he saw a flicker of a figure before he flicked her out of the way.

"Shhh! I didn't do anything to..."

He looked down at his blood-stained hands and shirt. Oh she'll never believe him. Sylar was right, she sent a blinding blue flash across the room and it nailed him right in the chest, tossing his body from the impact of the force used. He smacked onto the floor and back into the shadows in the darkened hallway.

Elle quickly got up, brushed herself off and started toward the man. She was put-off that the familiar smell of charred flesh wasn't stinging her nostrils. When he stood up again, she sparked up her hand to see the damage that she had done. It made her stop in her tracks when she realized that their wasn't a single burn on his skin, but his clothes were rather singed.

Sylar had yet to test the ability he just obtained in New Jersey no more than a few hours ago. Forget 

the cheerleader for now, impenetrable skin was a godsend. He couldn't help a small smirk.

"That little trick won't work on me anymore Elle. But listen, I didn't do that to him. I was just sent down here to try and contain the situation. Twelve detainees have escaped...I assumed it's when you went berserk and ended up frying the central power grid. But Angela told me that the people in this level...are the worst of the worst. For a second, I thought I heard anoth--AGH!"

Suddenly Sylar found the figure from before had all but pounced on him. Striking at him, and slashing at him again and again all the while. Sylar threw the man off of him and he went right for him again. The figure possessed incredible strenght, tenacity, and reflexes. Before Sylar could even get up off the floor, the unknown man was on him again. If Sylar's skin couldn't be broken he would have watched his own flesh and tendon rip and shred and splatter all over the walls.

A gunshot rang out in the halls, followed by another. The figure on top of Sylar went limp and he rolled out from under the body. Panting, he took a moment to catch his breath as he looked over at Elle. It wasn't her... though she had tried to help him. Flashes of blue light sparked during Sylar's struggle. Noah Bennet lowered his gun, smoke curled up from the freshly used barrel. He walked forward to the body and peered through the darkness. Just as he'd thought. Sylar stood up and ran a hand over his face and shirt. Hell his shirt and vest were completely ruined now. Tattered and burnt material that was so nice and pristine not hours ago. He tensed some at the sight of the man in the horn-rimmed glasses standing there with a gun. In the past, that never ended exceptionally well for him. But something told him things were different now even with this man.

Noah stepped back from the body and looked at Elle and Sylar in turn as he spoke.

"That was Benjamin Washington aka Knox. A violent criminal with an ability that can only be described as animal mimicry. He can take on the speed, reflexes, attack and defense mechanisms of any predatorial creature. I put him in his cell three years ago. He and eleven others that should be down here...but they're all gone, escaped."

Elle looked around and she felt her stomach twist.

"I didnt'...I mean it wasn't me who let them go!"

Noah shook his head. He moved back toward her and kept a wary eye on Sylar. Part of him wanted nothing more to lift his gun and take down the other violent criminal in the room. But no, he had to maintain a sense of professionalism. If only for his family, who were still being left alone to live their lives because of the sacrifice he made to come back to these people.

"No, Elle. You blew the power but the security mainframe was breached by someone with technopathic abiliities. It wasn't you. They sent me as soon as it happened but...it seems I was too late."

He turned to Sylar and clenched his jaw some as he spoke.

"Eleven people are still out there. Dangerous individuals. Angela wants them back, all of them. She wants me to do it...and she wants you on this as well. Company policy dictates that on a mission it's supposed to be one of us...and one of them. You're the 'them', Sylar. We're partners."

Noah almost couldn't say the last word and Sylar stared in shock at what he said. His mother really was serious about all of this. Serious enough to force the man whose daughter he tried twice to kill to stand by his side. A slow smirk came across his face as he thought about it. All those powers--simply ripe for the taking when they found all of them again.

"When do we leave?"


End file.
